So, I believe I last posted in December of 2010. Not sure a whole lot has changed since then, except that now the world is coming to an end...this weekend. Not really sure how I feel about this since I have a bunch of fun stuff planned for this summer. But let's say it happens.
1. Will I go to heaven?
2. Will my family and friends join me if I do?
3. What about Hank?
4. Who do I need to talk to when I get there so that all of those I love, even those who struggle with belief, will be with me in the afterlife? After all, my happiness IS the most important thing.
5. And I WILL have words with those in charge to advocate for those I love.
Seriously, though, even if nothing happens this weekend, we should evaluate where we are in our lives. For Christians or non-believers, an event like this should make us all stop and think. If you are reading this, you are of age and have made some good and bad life decisions, lived a little, and learned even more (or less, as the case may be). Otherwise, you wouldn't be taking the time to see what I have to say. I have lived a TON, would make different decisions, and am stronger because of my experiences, both good and bad.
This weekend, I will take time to make sure I am treating people with respect, following the Golden Rule, continuing to strive to be my best, and enjoying the most important thing given to me on this earth. My family. In the end, these people love us for good and bad and there is nothing I wouldn't risk to make sure they are safe and happy.
Good luck this weekend!!! We will be camping!!!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Friday, December 24, 2010
The holidays can be really wonderful.
So many things are different now during the holidays than when I was younger. I find that I just coast along and take things as they come. Fortunately for me, I don't have to cook and entertain at my house. My WONDERFUL inlaws have hosted Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at their house for many years. I tried to cook for their family once. Let's just say we won't do it again anytime soon. While I know my strengths, I can also appreciate my shortcomings...
It was our first Christmas without Dad this year too. We all had a very tolerable (actually fun) and stress-free time! I missed hearing his smartass comments and familial inserts. He had this funny language that my sisters and I try to imitate and memorialize. It's so goofy, but it was who we were.
Despite the fun, I had to appreciate the irony of it all:
I went to look for my new bike on Christmas Eve at about 1pm. I ended up back home 30 minutes before we were to be at church for William to sing (4:30) because I a) got bad directions (THANK YOU JOHN) to the bike place and b) had to go to a second bike place. By the end I was DONE with life and ready to go to bed.
Thomas woke up with a fever at 3am on Christmas morning. Not a mild fever, though, it was one of those that requires you to get up out of a deep sleep and get your kid Motrin and stay awake to make sure it worked. Fifths Disease was the culprit and we are still battling it two days later. He's 7. I thought we were done with these pesky diseases.
We woke up Christmas morning and opened gifts. After that, we (I) decided to watch the Nutcracker. Sadly, when William thought the Nutcracker had died after the battle with the mice, he cried like a baby. It took me a while to convince him that the Nutcracker would come back to life. As we were watching, Thomas couldn't stand it anymore and periodically danced like MJ to the rest of the pieces. Needless to say, we didn't finish the ballet, but we had fun- in an unconventional sort of way.
At one point, I was practicing my new holiday song, 'Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingles on my face."
Then, I overheared a conversation between John and Thomas. Thomas was saying that he promised he'd TRY to be good, but didn't promise he'd actually be good. That's been our mantra for the break so far...
At one point, I was listening around the house and realized that John could only use the 'Santa's watching' thing for about 8 more hours. I immediately started looking for things that we could use for the rest of the break, but couldn't come up with anything.
I could probably come up with a few more good stories, but what stole the cake was actually having a white Christmas in Atlanta. Apparently it had been over 100 years since that had happened. The boys, my mom and my sister were overwhelmed with the sight. It truly was beautiful and very special. At one point, one of the boys said that Poppy was making it snow. How true and how beautiful that he was with us, despite being absent.
We hope to have a prosperous and positively eventful 2011.
It was our first Christmas without Dad this year too. We all had a very tolerable (actually fun) and stress-free time! I missed hearing his smartass comments and familial inserts. He had this funny language that my sisters and I try to imitate and memorialize. It's so goofy, but it was who we were.
Despite the fun, I had to appreciate the irony of it all:
I went to look for my new bike on Christmas Eve at about 1pm. I ended up back home 30 minutes before we were to be at church for William to sing (4:30) because I a) got bad directions (THANK YOU JOHN) to the bike place and b) had to go to a second bike place. By the end I was DONE with life and ready to go to bed.
Thomas woke up with a fever at 3am on Christmas morning. Not a mild fever, though, it was one of those that requires you to get up out of a deep sleep and get your kid Motrin and stay awake to make sure it worked. Fifths Disease was the culprit and we are still battling it two days later. He's 7. I thought we were done with these pesky diseases.
We woke up Christmas morning and opened gifts. After that, we (I) decided to watch the Nutcracker. Sadly, when William thought the Nutcracker had died after the battle with the mice, he cried like a baby. It took me a while to convince him that the Nutcracker would come back to life. As we were watching, Thomas couldn't stand it anymore and periodically danced like MJ to the rest of the pieces. Needless to say, we didn't finish the ballet, but we had fun- in an unconventional sort of way.
At one point, I was practicing my new holiday song, 'Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingles on my face."
Then, I overheared a conversation between John and Thomas. Thomas was saying that he promised he'd TRY to be good, but didn't promise he'd actually be good. That's been our mantra for the break so far...
At one point, I was listening around the house and realized that John could only use the 'Santa's watching' thing for about 8 more hours. I immediately started looking for things that we could use for the rest of the break, but couldn't come up with anything.
I could probably come up with a few more good stories, but what stole the cake was actually having a white Christmas in Atlanta. Apparently it had been over 100 years since that had happened. The boys, my mom and my sister were overwhelmed with the sight. It truly was beautiful and very special. At one point, one of the boys said that Poppy was making it snow. How true and how beautiful that he was with us, despite being absent.
We hope to have a prosperous and positively eventful 2011.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Boys are so different than girls.
It happens every day. We come in from school, unpack our stuff, and the boys immediately go into the den to play 'Hut, Hut, Hike.' What's that, you ask? Well, if you must know, it's an indoor version of tackle football played in a very small area that usually involves Thomas throwing William's little body to the ground to impede his quest for a touchdown. That act is usually followed by much whining by William, which leads to Thomas allowing him his own touchdown, which is necessary to William deciding to play another down.
I don't understand what compels little boys to be in constant motion and physical contact with one another, but it seems that they are always competing, trying to be first, and one-upping each other. I see such hateful attitudes and unfair behavior sometimes. It reminds me of growing up with siblings myself. Man, we were really tough on each other. It's really strange to see it in your own children.
Even though I don't understand it, it seems to be a very natural and fun way to interact with one another. I must say that I have seen many unsolicited acts of brotherly love during this play and hope that my boys are learning how to be compassionate. They have this great relationship and seem to really like spending quality time together lately, even if it involves throwing each other to the ground.
I am happy they have each other. Long after we are gone, I wish that they will become the best of friends. Family is everything.
I don't understand what compels little boys to be in constant motion and physical contact with one another, but it seems that they are always competing, trying to be first, and one-upping each other. I see such hateful attitudes and unfair behavior sometimes. It reminds me of growing up with siblings myself. Man, we were really tough on each other. It's really strange to see it in your own children.
Even though I don't understand it, it seems to be a very natural and fun way to interact with one another. I must say that I have seen many unsolicited acts of brotherly love during this play and hope that my boys are learning how to be compassionate. They have this great relationship and seem to really like spending quality time together lately, even if it involves throwing each other to the ground.
I am happy they have each other. Long after we are gone, I wish that they will become the best of friends. Family is everything.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Something good will come from diabetes.
It is the eve of the JDRF walk for diabetes. This will be the second year we have participated in William's short five year life.
He was diagnosed at 20 months-a baby still in diapers with no idea why this awful hospital trip was happening to him.
I remember his diagnosis at the pediatrician's office. They checked his blood sugar and came back with a reading of 491. She said, "I'm sorry, sweetie. William is diabetic and needs to go to the emergency room immediately." I was shocked, scared, and full of dread, as the prospect of what was to come loomed. It was every bit as horrible as I imagined it, culminating with the nurses' (plural) inabilities to start an IV on my little boy's small veins. I don't like to remember, but feel that I should document it for his sake.
Since then, he has endured countless finger pricks, injections, pump change-outs, highs, lows, infections, ketone checks, and hours of fear and pain.
Diabetes is not a death sentence. It is more a life sentence. It never stops and it can never be ignored. It is constant and requires vigilance.
As a parent, I have come to realize that I cannot rest easily unless I know that his blood sugar level is stable. That is something which John and I can control. But what happens when he is in college? An adult on his own? Our fears are real and constant.
There must be something positive that comes from having a child with type 1 diabetes. There has to be.
He was diagnosed at 20 months-a baby still in diapers with no idea why this awful hospital trip was happening to him.
I remember his diagnosis at the pediatrician's office. They checked his blood sugar and came back with a reading of 491. She said, "I'm sorry, sweetie. William is diabetic and needs to go to the emergency room immediately." I was shocked, scared, and full of dread, as the prospect of what was to come loomed. It was every bit as horrible as I imagined it, culminating with the nurses' (plural) inabilities to start an IV on my little boy's small veins. I don't like to remember, but feel that I should document it for his sake.
Since then, he has endured countless finger pricks, injections, pump change-outs, highs, lows, infections, ketone checks, and hours of fear and pain.
Diabetes is not a death sentence. It is more a life sentence. It never stops and it can never be ignored. It is constant and requires vigilance.
As a parent, I have come to realize that I cannot rest easily unless I know that his blood sugar level is stable. That is something which John and I can control. But what happens when he is in college? An adult on his own? Our fears are real and constant.
There must be something positive that comes from having a child with type 1 diabetes. There has to be.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Self-sabotage is the worst kind.
So, I went to see the doctor yesterday. I was there to see if the medication I am taking is working. While I appreciate him following up with my health, I really don't think I should have to make an appointment with the doctor for another $30 copay, so that he can tell me that he will refill my prescription because I seem ok.
I digress....
At the appointment I had my kids with me...not a great idea, but there was no other choice. After stepping on the scale, I realized that I had gained SEVEN POUNDS in the last month or so. SEVEN POUNDS! I'm not sure I gained that much between ob visit while pregnant with my kids!
Again, I digress...
After the disgust of seeing my weight gain, I had my blood pressure taken. It was in the high-normal range. HIGH NORMAL. Seriously? I gain seven pounds and my bp spikes? I am hoping it was because I had my kids with me and was all hyped up trying to make them behave and because I had gained weight. The doctor rechecked it and it was down a little.
So he asked me to what I attributed the weight gain. I said that I thought maybe it was the higher dose of medication. He asked if I had made any eating or exercise changes. I averted my eyes and said that I had made negative changes in both areas. I countered with the fact that the meds could have caused the weight gain and maybe I should decrease the dosage. He asked me if I felt better. I said that I did. He told me that I had to ask myself if it was worth feeling worse for the chance that the meds caused the weight gain. I really wanted a quick fix, but he forced me to look at the facts.
Yes, I had an incredibly stressful month or so and yes, I had stopped exercising and was eating horribly. Yes, I felt better, but I told him I was so busy that I didn't have time to exercise. He just looked at me and said, "We're all busy." We ARE all busy and there comes a time when we have to take responsibility and make choices for ourselves and follow through with them, no matter how long it takes. I sat back and told him that I needed him to say that, that I needed him not to allow me to make excuses for myself. He told me that I was the one who needed to think that and it was up to me to make healthy decisions for myself.
I don't know what it is. When I wake up in the morning I am full of all of these resolutions for the day. As I work through the day, though, I find my resolve to fulfill those goals weakens. By nighttime, I am self-righteous and feel that I deserve what I want because I have worked so hard. Self-sabotage. Why is it so difficult to stay true to a resolution? It shouldn't be that hard, but it is a constant struggle that I wish would end.
I am currently back on the exercise wagon and ran three plus miles today. I am going to have a nice little chat with myself later tonight...without ice cream or nachos.
L
I digress....
At the appointment I had my kids with me...not a great idea, but there was no other choice. After stepping on the scale, I realized that I had gained SEVEN POUNDS in the last month or so. SEVEN POUNDS! I'm not sure I gained that much between ob visit while pregnant with my kids!
Again, I digress...
After the disgust of seeing my weight gain, I had my blood pressure taken. It was in the high-normal range. HIGH NORMAL. Seriously? I gain seven pounds and my bp spikes? I am hoping it was because I had my kids with me and was all hyped up trying to make them behave and because I had gained weight. The doctor rechecked it and it was down a little.
So he asked me to what I attributed the weight gain. I said that I thought maybe it was the higher dose of medication. He asked if I had made any eating or exercise changes. I averted my eyes and said that I had made negative changes in both areas. I countered with the fact that the meds could have caused the weight gain and maybe I should decrease the dosage. He asked me if I felt better. I said that I did. He told me that I had to ask myself if it was worth feeling worse for the chance that the meds caused the weight gain. I really wanted a quick fix, but he forced me to look at the facts.
Yes, I had an incredibly stressful month or so and yes, I had stopped exercising and was eating horribly. Yes, I felt better, but I told him I was so busy that I didn't have time to exercise. He just looked at me and said, "We're all busy." We ARE all busy and there comes a time when we have to take responsibility and make choices for ourselves and follow through with them, no matter how long it takes. I sat back and told him that I needed him to say that, that I needed him not to allow me to make excuses for myself. He told me that I was the one who needed to think that and it was up to me to make healthy decisions for myself.
I don't know what it is. When I wake up in the morning I am full of all of these resolutions for the day. As I work through the day, though, I find my resolve to fulfill those goals weakens. By nighttime, I am self-righteous and feel that I deserve what I want because I have worked so hard. Self-sabotage. Why is it so difficult to stay true to a resolution? It shouldn't be that hard, but it is a constant struggle that I wish would end.
I am currently back on the exercise wagon and ran three plus miles today. I am going to have a nice little chat with myself later tonight...without ice cream or nachos.
L
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
God knows what He is doing.
No matter how much we think we want to change it, God's will always shows us the best way. It has been two weeks and three days since my dad's spirit left this earth. Looking back, I can tell you that there were signs that he was ready to go all along our journey to his death.
When he entered the ICU on August 4th, my dad never saw the date on the dry erase board. It was supposed to have been changed every day with the new date and the name of the nurse for the day. It was August 4th and the date on the board was July 22, 2010, which was his 62nd birthday.
After he was transferred to the multiple myeloma floor, he became increasingly uncomfortable. I got really upset and began the process of getting him transferred to hospice as soon as possible. I remember my mom and the pastor of their church saying that my dad locked eyes with my mom and held up his arm and gave the "I love you" sign in sign language. Also noteworthy was that anytime the three of us went to talk to him, tears came out of both sides of his eyes. I'd like to think that was a meaningful gesture instead of a physical response.
The morning he slipped away, my aunt had stayed the night with him, refusing to allow us to stay at the hospital that night because we were so exhausted. The phone rang at our house at 5:48am. I got the phone, but didn't answer because I didn't recognize the name. I went back to bed and the phone rang again two minutes later and it was my uncle's phone. He told me that dad had passed away. I immediately called the number back and got the nurse who was on call that night. My aunt had used the nurse's phone to call us because hers had died. She told us that she called the nurse to have him suctioned and repositioned and as she was closing the door behind the nurse as she was leaving, she heard him take a light breath and he was gone. She said she looked out the window and there was a beautiful pink sunrise in front of her.
We were mourning on our way to the hospital and it had not rained in days. As soon as we left the house, it began to pour angrily. As we neared Little Rock, the rain began to subside and we too, saw the sunrise. I think it is quite fitting that God chose to take him three short hours before his transfer to hospice, which he would have hated.
I have always believed in signs and I am sure that I missed many that I was too upset to see. But the point is that God knew what he wanted for my dad and I am at peace with the events that took place. My dad's death has brought much pain, but has also been a catalyst for new and better relationships with his side of our family, which my dad would have loved. It has also been the blessing and answer for our concern for our mother, who is actually happily beginning a new chapter in her life.
My sisters and I are just sad. We miss him terribly. I am sorry for people who will never know him because he was so good. He was just such a unique person. He was good and kind and had too many lives to count. I don't think I have grieved for him yet. I am consumed with handling matters of his death, my mom, my family, my job. That doesn't leave a lot of time for the grieving process.
I will grieve in my own time and we will all learn something from the last nine years of pain and disappointment. He is happy and with God. He is watching us and laughing at the mess he left at home that the three of us have to sort through and clean up. Somehow, I knew it would happen that way. And I'm ok with it.
When he entered the ICU on August 4th, my dad never saw the date on the dry erase board. It was supposed to have been changed every day with the new date and the name of the nurse for the day. It was August 4th and the date on the board was July 22, 2010, which was his 62nd birthday.
After he was transferred to the multiple myeloma floor, he became increasingly uncomfortable. I got really upset and began the process of getting him transferred to hospice as soon as possible. I remember my mom and the pastor of their church saying that my dad locked eyes with my mom and held up his arm and gave the "I love you" sign in sign language. Also noteworthy was that anytime the three of us went to talk to him, tears came out of both sides of his eyes. I'd like to think that was a meaningful gesture instead of a physical response.
The morning he slipped away, my aunt had stayed the night with him, refusing to allow us to stay at the hospital that night because we were so exhausted. The phone rang at our house at 5:48am. I got the phone, but didn't answer because I didn't recognize the name. I went back to bed and the phone rang again two minutes later and it was my uncle's phone. He told me that dad had passed away. I immediately called the number back and got the nurse who was on call that night. My aunt had used the nurse's phone to call us because hers had died. She told us that she called the nurse to have him suctioned and repositioned and as she was closing the door behind the nurse as she was leaving, she heard him take a light breath and he was gone. She said she looked out the window and there was a beautiful pink sunrise in front of her.
We were mourning on our way to the hospital and it had not rained in days. As soon as we left the house, it began to pour angrily. As we neared Little Rock, the rain began to subside and we too, saw the sunrise. I think it is quite fitting that God chose to take him three short hours before his transfer to hospice, which he would have hated.
I have always believed in signs and I am sure that I missed many that I was too upset to see. But the point is that God knew what he wanted for my dad and I am at peace with the events that took place. My dad's death has brought much pain, but has also been a catalyst for new and better relationships with his side of our family, which my dad would have loved. It has also been the blessing and answer for our concern for our mother, who is actually happily beginning a new chapter in her life.
My sisters and I are just sad. We miss him terribly. I am sorry for people who will never know him because he was so good. He was just such a unique person. He was good and kind and had too many lives to count. I don't think I have grieved for him yet. I am consumed with handling matters of his death, my mom, my family, my job. That doesn't leave a lot of time for the grieving process.
I will grieve in my own time and we will all learn something from the last nine years of pain and disappointment. He is happy and with God. He is watching us and laughing at the mess he left at home that the three of us have to sort through and clean up. Somehow, I knew it would happen that way. And I'm ok with it.
Friday, August 6, 2010
To know you are loved eases your pain.
I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of support that our family has received since my dad had his stroke on Tuesday. It was a severe left-sided CVA, which affected the part of his brain that controls speech and language. He is still mostly unresponsive and we are not sure about his prognosis yet.
Initially I wanted to just ask for prayer, but this support has evolved into an amazing testament to what an amazing man my dad is. My sisters, family and I are a united front that has only his best interest at heart. Even though decisions may be tough for us, his well-being is our number one priority.
Please continue to remember him in your prayers by asking God to show us His will, whatever that may be. And know that we are extremely moved by all of the prayers offered to us during this difficult time.
Initially I wanted to just ask for prayer, but this support has evolved into an amazing testament to what an amazing man my dad is. My sisters, family and I are a united front that has only his best interest at heart. Even though decisions may be tough for us, his well-being is our number one priority.
Please continue to remember him in your prayers by asking God to show us His will, whatever that may be. And know that we are extremely moved by all of the prayers offered to us during this difficult time.
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